


Something to Be Thankful for

by StBridget



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8464789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StBridget/pseuds/StBridget
Summary: Bozer is horrified by his friends' attempt to make Thanksgiving dinner, so he takes matters into his own hands.





	

**Author's Note:**

> MacGyver is property of CBS and its creators.
> 
> We don't have much to go on yet, so I took a few liberties. Hopefully, no one's too OOC.

Wilt Bozer stumbled into the kitchen in search of coffee on Thanksgiving morning, eyes barely open.  Someone—his roommate Angus MacGyver, better known as Mac, he assumed—shoved a steaming mug into his grasping hand.  Bozer took a deep breath of the fragrant brew, followed by a healthy swig.  He spluttered and spit it out.  Damn, he’d forgotten Mac made lousy coffee.  The man could make a coffee pot out of random odds and ends, but he couldn’t brew it to save his soul.  However, Bozer was definitely awake.

Bozer heard a snicker and turned towards its source, surprised to see Riley Davis, Mac’s co-worker and Bozer’s soon-to-be—he hoped—girlfriend—just as soon as he went to one more meeting with her parole officer with her.  Then he could officially call her and ask her out.  It had never actually occurred to him to ask her out during one of her almost-daily visits.  “What are you doing here?” he blurted out.  Then he recovered himself, slipping into his usual suave manner.  “Not that waking up to your beautiful face isn’t a treat, but I wasn’t expecting you.”

“We’re making Thanksgiving dinner,” she said happily, holding up a partially—and very unevenly—peeled potato.  Bozer noticed a small pile of potato peelings in front of her, and a larger quantity strewn across the counter, the floor, and even in her hair.  How in the world had she managed that?

“You are?”  He looked around the kitchen.  Preparations for Thanksgiving dinner did, indeed, seem to be underway.  Riley had gone back to enthusiastically peeling potatoes, peelings flying everywhere (well, that explained the peel in her hair).  Mac was in the corner, apparently assembling something from the materials in front of him.

Bozer went over for a closer look.  Mac seemed to be attaching a gauge to a bunch of wires wrapped around a thing metal bar.  “What is _that_?”

“It’s a meat thermometer,” Mac said.  “I couldn’t find one.”

Bozer looked at the other items strewn over the counter in front of Mac.  They included a bulb syringe, a length of PVC pipe, and a giant roll of duct tape.  “What, are you going to jury-rig a turkey baster next?”

Before Mac could reply, his friend and co-worker Jack Dalton called to him from where he was working.  “Could I get a little help here, please?”

Bozer looked at the final man who had invaded his kitchen.  Jack was gingerly holding a massive turkey upright by one leg.  His face was screwed up as he tentatively poked his hand into the cavity.

Mac glanced at his friend and laughed.  “Blood and guts don’t bother you, but you’re grossed out by a little turkey?”

“Hey, raw poultry’s unhealthy!” Jack defended himself.  “And it’s really slimy!”

Bozer snatched the turkey away from Jack.  “What did that poor bird do to you to deserve this?  Let me do that.”  He made shooing motions at Jack to get him out of the kitchen.  Then he turned to Mac and snatched up his makeshift utensils.  “You get out of here, too.  We have a perfectly good thermometer and turkey baster.”

“Then why couldn’t I find them?” Mac asked.

“Because the only thing you use in the kitchen is the microwave, and you couldn’t find anything in here unless I drew you a map.  Now, get.”  Mac, too, turned to take his leave.  That left just one person.  He stilled Riley’s hand and gently took the potato and peeler out of her hands.  “That goes for you as well.  Much as I love you, you’re a danger in the kitchen.”

“Okay, fine.”  Riley backed away, hands in the air, then went to join Mac and Jack, who already had a football game on and beers cracked open.

“Much better.”  Bozer rubbed his hands together in anticipation.  “Now, I’ll show you how to make a real Thanksgiving dinner.”

For the next few hours, the only sounds to be heard were Jack and Mac’s cheers and the occasional clattering of pots and pans from the kitchen.  Every so often, one of the agents would poke their head into the kitchen to ask if Bozer needed help, only to be shooed out again with an “It’s all under control.”  After a couple of hours, delicious smells started wafting through the house.

“Smells great,” Jack said.  “Whatcha got cooking in there.”

Bozer came into the living room, proudly sporting a “Kiss the Cook” apron.  Maybe Riley would get the hint.  “Turkey, of course, with sausage stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, and homemade cranberry sauce.  I can’t believe you guys got canned!”

“I like canned,” Jack said.  Bozer just stared at him, horrified.

“I didn’t know we had half that stuff on hand,” Mac commented.

“That’s because you never look.  If it doesn’t come frozen or in a can or box, you wouldn’t know it was there.”

“I can hardly wait to taste it,” Riley said.  “How much longer?”

Bozer beamed at her.  “Just a couple more hours, my sweet, then you will be treated to a feast fit for a king, or, in your case, a queen.”  With that, he retreated back into the kitchen.

True to his word, a couple of hours later Bozer was laying a mouthwatering banquet out on the table.  The bird was perfectly browned, the mashed potatoes were light and fluffy, the marshmallow topping on the sweet potatoes emanated sweet goodness, and the green bean casserole bubbled invitingly.  Jack took a deep, appreciative breath.  “Man, this is the life.  Who’s going to carve the turkey.”

“Well, if you think you can keep from butchering it, you can,” Bozer said.  “Mac says you’ve got wicked good knife skills, so let’s see them.  Unless, of course, you’re still grossed out.”

Jack took the carving knife Bozer handed him and brandished it with a flourish.  “Cooked, I can handle.  I can carve like nobody’s business.”  He then proved he did, indeed, know how to wield a carving knife.

A plate of meat was placed in front of each person, and side dishes were passed around.  When each person had a heaping helping in front of them, Jack sat down, grabbed his fork, and prepared to dive in.  Mac stopped him with a hand on his wrist.  “What?” Jack asked.

“I think we should say what we’re thankful for,” Mac said.  “It is Thanksgiving, after all.”

“Alright.”  Jack thought for a moment.  “I’m thankful for this food.  Now, let’s eat.”

Mac stilled his hand again.  “Not so fast.  The rest of us have to say what we’re thankful for.”

Jack sighed and reluctantly put down his fork.  “Okay, fine.  What are you thankful for?”

“I’m thankful for a great roommate and a beautiful girlfriend.”  Bozer placed his hand on top of Riley’s, who was sitting next to him.  She glared pointedly at it but didn’t move her hand.

“Your turn, Riley,” Mac said.

“I’m thankful for a second chance and all of you looking out for me.”

“What about you, Mac?” Jack asked.

“I’m thankful for all of you having my back and reminding me there’s something worth living for when Nikki. . .died.”

Jack nodded.  “Friends.  Now that’s something to be thankful for.”

Everyone agreed.


End file.
